The Raven

trochaic octameter · ABCBBB · 108 lines

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.“’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating“’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door—Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore—Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—’Tis the wind and nothing more.”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;For we cannot help agreeing that no living human beingEver yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke onlyThat one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpourNothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered—Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before—On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful DisasterFollowed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden boreOf ‘Never—nevermore.’”

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yoreMeant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease recliningOn the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’erShe shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent theeRespite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreamingAnd the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted—nevermore!

Words in this poem 49

dreary a.: Sorrowful; distressful. [OE. dreori, dreri, AS. dreórig, sad; akin to G. traurig, and prob. to AS. dreósan to fall, Goth. driusan. Cf. Dross, Drear, Drizzle, Drowse.]
quaint a.: Prudent; wise; hence, crafty; artful; wily. [OE. queint, queynte, coint, prudent, wise, cunning, pretty, odd, OF. cointe cultivated, amiable, agreeable, neat, fr. L. cognitus known, p. p. of cognoscere to ]
curious a.: Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
napping n.: The act or process of raising a nap, as on cloth.
ember n.: A lighted coal, smoldering amid ashes; -- used chiefly in the plural, to signify mingled coals and ashes; the smoldering remains of a fire. [OE. emmeres, emeres, AS. ; akin to Icel. eimyrja, Dan. emmer, MHG. eimere; cf. Icel. eimr vapor, smoke.]
ghost n.: The spirit; the soul of man. [OE. gast, gost, soul, spirit, AS. gast breath, spirit, soul; akin to OS. g spirit, soul, D. geest, G. geist, and prob. to E. gaze, ghastly.]
borrow v. t.: To receive from another as a loan, with the implied or expressed intention of returning the identical article or its equivalent in kind; -- the opposite of lend. [OE. borwen, AS. borgian, fr. borg, borh, pledge; akin to D. borg, G. borg; prob. fr. root of AS. beorgan to protect. Borough.]
surcease v. t.: To cause to cease; to end.
nameless a.: Without a name; not having been given a name; as, a nameless star.
evermore adv.: During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
presently adv.: At present; at this time; now.
scarce a.: Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
stillness n.: The quality or state of being still; quietness; silence; calmness; inactivity.
thereat adv.: At that place; there.
explore v. t.: To seek for or after; to strive to attain by search; to look wisely and carefully for. [L. explorare to explore; ex out+plorare to cry out aloud,prob. orig., to cause to flow; perh. akin to E. flow: cf. F. explorer.]
saintly a.: Like a saint; becoming a holy person.
yore adv.: In time long past; in old time; long since. [OE. , yare, , AS. geára;akin to geár a year, E. year. Year.]
stayed a.: Staid; fixed; settled; sober; -- now written staid. See Staid.
pallas n.: Pallas Athene, the Grecian goddess of wisdom, called also Athene, and identified, at a later period, with the Roman Minerva.
beguiling a.: Alluring by guile; deluding; misleading; diverting.
craven v. t.: To make recreant, weak, spiritless, or cowardly.
nightly a.: Of or pertaining to the night, or to every night; happening or done by night, or every night; as, nightly shades; he kept nightly vigils.
quoth v. t.: Said; spoke; uttered; -- used only in the first and third persons in the past tenses, and always followed by its nominative, the word or words said being the object; as, quoth I. quoth he. [AS.cweedhan, imp cwæedh, pl. cwædon; akin to OS. queedhan, OHG. quethan, quedan, Icel. kveedha, Goth. qiþan. sq. root22. Cf. Bequeath.]
nevermore adv.: Never again; at no time hereafter. Testament of Love. Tyndale.
relevancy n.: The quality or state of being relevant; pertinency; applicability.
placid a.: Pleased; contented; unruffied; undisturbed; serene; peaceful; tranquil; quiet; gentle. [L. placidus, originally, pleasing, mild, from placere to please: cf. F. placide. See Please.]
spoke n.: The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
outpour n.: A flowing out; a free discharge.
flown a.: Flushed, inflated.
aptly adv.: In an apt or suitable manner; fitly; properly; pertinently; appropriately; readily.
doubtless a.: Free from fear or suspicion.
unmerciful a.: Not merciful; indisposed to mercy or grace; cruel; inhuman; merciless; unkind.
disaster n.: An unpropitious or baleful aspect of a planet or star; malevolent influence of a heavenly body; hence, an ill portent. [F. désastre; pref. dés- (L. dis-) + astre star, fr. L. astrum; a word of astrological origin. See Aster, Astral, Star.]
gaunt a.: Attenuated, as with fasting or suffering; lean; meager; pinched and grim. [Cf. Norw. gand a thin pointed stick, a tall and thin man, and W. gwan weak.]
shall v. i.: To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
unseen a.: Not seen or discovered.
censer n.: A vessel for perfumes; esp. one in which incense is burned. [For incenser, fr. OF. encensier, F. encensoir, fr. LL. incensarium, incensorium, fr. L. incensum incense. See Incense, and cf. Incensory.]
seraphim n.: The Hebrew plural of Seraph. Cf. Cherubim.
nepenthe n.: A drug used by the ancients to give relief from pain and sorrow; -- by some supposed to have been opium or hasheesh. Hence, anything soothing and comforting.
quaff v. t.: To drink with relish; to drink copiously of; to swallow in large draughts. [For quach, fr. Gael. & Ir. cuach a drinking cup; cf. L. caucus a drinking vessel. Cf. Quaigh.]
tempter n.: One who tempts or entices; especially, Satan, or the Devil, regarded as the great enticer to evil.
undaunted a.: Not daunted; not subdued or depressed by fear.
enchanted a.: Under the power of enchantment; possessed or exercised by enchanters; as, an enchanted castle.
haunted a.: Inhabited by, or subject to the visits of, apparitions; frequented by a ghost.
adore v. t.: To worship with profound reverence; to pay divine honors to; to honor as deity or as divine. [OE. aouren, anouren, adoren, OF. aorer, adorer, F. adorer, fr. L. adorare; ad + orare to speak, pray, os, oris, mouth. In OE. confused with honor, the French pr]
sainted a.: Consecrated; sacred; holy; pious.
loneliness n.: The condition of being lonely; solitude; seclusion.
flitting n.: A flying with lightness and celerity; a fluttering.
streaming a.: Sending forth streams.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

The Raven is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Raven, Project Gutenberg ebook #1065; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven, (1845), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1065, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/the-raven/poem.html, id L00173.

Form and metre

The Raven is 108 lines in 18 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABCBBB. The metre is trochaic octameter, as Wikipedia: The Raven has it. 89% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 14.3 syllables. 32 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 17% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other poems in trochaic octameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

1 ABCBBB weary^A · lore^B · tapping^C · door^B · door^B · more^B
2 ABCBBB december^A · floor^B · borrow^C · lenore^B · lenore^B · evermore^B
3 ABCBBB curtain^A · before^B · repeating^C · door^B · door^B · more^B
4 ABCBBB longer^A · implore^B · rapping^C · door^B · door^B · more^B
5 ABCBBB fearing^A · before^B · token^C · lenore^B · lenore^B · more^B
6 ABCBBB burning^A · before^B · lattice^C · explore^B · explore^B · more^B
7 ABCBBB flutter^A · yore^B · he^C · door^B · door^B · more^B
8 ABCBBB smiling^A · wore^B · craven^C · shore^B · shore^B · nevermore^B
9 ABCBBB plainly^A · bore^B · being^C · door^B · door^B · nevermore^B
10 ABCBBB only^A · outpour^B · fluttered^C · before^B · before^B · nevermore^B
11 ABCBBB spoken^A · store^B · disaster^C · bore^B · bore^B · nevermore^B
12 ABCBBB smiling^A · door^B · linking^C · yore^B · yore^B · nevermore^B
13 ABCBBB expressing^A · core^B · reclining^C · o'er^B · o'er^B · nevermore^B
14 ABCBBB censer^A · floor^B · thee^C · lenore^B · lenore^B · nevermore^B
15 ABCBBB devil^A · ashore^B · enchanted^C · implore^B · implore^B · nevermore^B
16 ABCBBB devil^A · adore^B · aidenn^C · lenore^B · lenore^B · nevermore^B
17 ABCBBB upstarting^A · shore^B · spoken^C · door^B · door^B · nevermore^B
18 ABCBBB sitting^A · door^B · dreaming^C · floor^B · floor^B · nevermore^B

Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic octameter. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,	16	····/·/˘··/˘··/˘
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—	16	·/˘···/˘˘/˘·˘/˘·
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,	16	··/˘/˘/˘/˘˘···/˘
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.	15	····/˘/˘/˘··/˘·
“’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—	16	··/˘˘·/˘˘/˘··/˘·
Only this and nothing more.”	7	/˘··/˘·
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,	16	·˘/˘·˘/˘·····˘/˘
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.	16	··/˘˘/˘/˘·······
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow	16	/˘˘···/˘/˘····/·
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—	15	···˘/·/˘/˘·····
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—	16	····/˘˘/˘··/˘···
Nameless here for evermore.	7	/˘··/˘·
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain	16	··/˘·˘/˘/˘··/˘/˘
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;	16	·˘····˘/˘/˘/˘···
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating	16	······/˘·····˘/˘
“’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—	15	··/˘˘···/˘··/˘·
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;	15	··/˘˘···/˘··/˘·
This it is and nothing more.”	7	····/˘·
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,	16	/˘˘···/˘/˘·˘··/˘
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;	15	····/˘/˘·˘/˘·˘/
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,	16	······/˘··/˘··/˘
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,	15	··/˘··/˘/˘··/˘·
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door—	16	··········/˘˘···
Darkness there and nothing more.	7	/˘··/˘·
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,	17	····/˘/˘····/˘˘/˘
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;	16	/˘/˘··/˘/˘·˘····
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,	16	··/˘·˘/˘··/˘··/˘
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”	16	··/˘··/˘··/˘˘···
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—	16	··/˘˘··/˘/˘·····
Merely this and nothing more.	7	/˘··/˘·
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,	16	····/˘/˘······/˘
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.	15	·˘/···/˘/˘/˘···
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;	16	/˘··/˘··/˘··/˘/˘
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore—	15	·····˘/···/˘˘˘/
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—	15	······/˘··/˘˘˘/
’Tis the wind and nothing more.”	7	····/˘·
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,	17	/˘····/˘··/˘···/˘
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.	16	···˘·/˘/˘··/˘···
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,	16	···˘/˘····/˘····
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—	16	······/˘·˘···/˘·
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—	16	·˘···········/˘·
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.	7	····/˘·
Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,	17	··/˘˘·˘/˘··/˘··/˘
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,	15	·····˘/˘··/˘˘··
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,	16	······/˘······/˘
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—	16	/˘··/˘/˘/˘˘··/˘·
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”	16	····/˘·····˘/˘˘·
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”	7	··/˘/˘·
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,	16	··˘/·˘/˘···/˘·/˘
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;	15	··/˘/˘/˘/˘/˘˘˘·
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being	16	··/˘·˘/˘··/˘/˘/˘
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—	16	/˘···˘·/˘····/˘·
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,	16	······/˘˘····/˘·
With such name as “Nevermore.”	7	····/˘·
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only	16	··/˘/˘/˘··/˘··/˘
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour	15	··············/
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered—	16	/˘/˘··/˘··/˘··/˘
Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before—	16	··/˘··/˘˘/˘·····
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”	15	··/˘···········
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”	7	····/˘·
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,	16	/˘··/˘/˘·˘/·/˘/˘
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,	15	/˘····/˘··/˘···
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster	16	···˘/˘/˘·˘/˘˘˘/˘
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—	16	/˘˘··/˘/˘····/˘·
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore	15	··/˘····/˘·˘/˘·
Of ‘Never—nevermore.’”	6	·/˘/˘·
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,	16	··/˘·˘/˘······/˘
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;	16	···˘·/˘·········
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking	16	····/˘/˘·˘/·/·/˘
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—	16	/˘··/˘/˘··/˘˘···
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore	16	···˘/˘/˘··/˘˘···
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”	7	··/˘/˘·
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing	16	···˘/·/˘··/˘˘˘/˘
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;	16	····/˘˘······/˘·
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining	16	·····˘/˘·····˘/˘
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,	15	··/˘/˘/˘····/˘·
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er	16	··/˘/˘˘/˘····/˘·
She shall press, ah, nevermore!	7	····/˘·
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer	16	·˘/···/˘˘/··˘//˘
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.	16	··/˘˘···/˘˘··/˘·
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee	16	··········/˘····
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!	16	/˘/˘·˘/˘··/˘˘···
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”	15	·····˘/˘·˘/····
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”	7	··/˘/˘·
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—	16	/˘····/˘/˘····/˘
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,	16	··/˘····/˘·˘··˘/
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—	16	/˘···˘/˘··/˘·˘/˘
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—	15	····/˘/˘··/˘·˘/
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”	15	······˘/·····˘/
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”	7	··/˘/˘·
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!	16	/˘····/˘/˘····/˘
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—	16	··/˘··········˘/
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,	16	····/˘/˘····/˘··
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—	15	····/˘/˘··/˘···
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”	16	····/˘˘/˘··/˘···
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”	7	··/˘/˘·
“Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—	16	··/˘··/˘·····/·˘
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!	16	······/˘···˘/˘˘·
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!	16	······/˘······/˘
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!	15	··/˘˘˘/˘·······
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”	15	···············
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”	7	··/˘/˘·
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting	16	··/˘/˘/˘··/˘··/˘
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;	15	··/˘········/˘·
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming	16	······/˘··/˘··/˘
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;	15	······/˘··/····
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor	15	······/···/˘···
Shall be lifted—nevermore!	7	··/˘/˘·

On this poem

The Philosophy of Composition, Poe's own account of how the poem was made.

a prose essay; the poem and the essay by Edgar Allan Poe, the photogravure illustrations from paintings by Galen J. Perrett, the initials and decorations by Will Jenkins, the typography designed by J. H. Nash. Of this first Quarto Photogravure Edition one thousand copies have been issued, printed on Arches handmade paper. Published by Paul Elder and Company and done into a book for them at the Tomoye Press, New York City. Finished this Tenth Day of July, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Seven.

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1. Added Table of Contents. 2. The punctuation for some lines in The Raven differs from other published versions, i.e., “!” instead of “?” or “.” instead of “!”. 3. Silently corrected typographical errors. 4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. 5. Enclosed italics font in underscores.

The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.

More by Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven The Complete Poetical Works